Author
Topic: A Walk In The Shadows (Inex, CLOSED) (Read 1002 times)

The term 'black market' evokes all sorts of imagery -- clandestine backroom meetings, abandoned warehouses under moonlight, deals hashed out between crime bosses over cigars and whiskey. In some places these images would have been perfectly reasonable, expected even... but not in Vale. In prim and proper Vale such arrangements would, with few exceptions, draw far too much attention... no, the way to operate effectively wasn't in the shadows, but in broad daylight behind a veneer of the mundane and accepted. A common storefront, for example, might double as both a legitimate business and a place to arrange illicit exchanges on the sly. Such was the case with Weylan's Imports: on its surface a quirky odds-and-ends shop that specialized in art and oddities from the other three kingdoms, but behind the knickknacks and strangely designed lamps lay a shrewd businessman who could obtain almost anything if the lien was right.

Today he had a delivery for Amane Petrichor: a set of cutting edge Atlesian focusing lenses, military grade stuff... and a little something extra, passed to him through the grapevine. The only problem was, he could never seem to remember what she looked like between visits; old Weylan wasn't sure if she just had 'that kind' of face or if his memory was starting to go as he got up in years. In fact he didn't even recognize her as she walked in.

"Ah, yes miss. Welcome to Weylon's Imports. How can I help you today, hm?"

Weylon looked up from his stock records as she spoke -- he had seen her enter, of course, but it was always wise to not be too eager when a new face walked in the door. As he did his eyes glanced at the beautiful, expensive white car parked out front of his establishment, blinking in surprise. With a ride like that this girl was surely no small fish, though as he took in her appearance he couldn't for the life of him place her. Somewhere in the back of his mind rang a dim awareness that a regular, one of his 'under the table' customers, had a car just like that one, though specifics completely eluded him.

"Ah, yes miss -- and a good afternoon to you." He put on a jovial demeanor, still slightly wary that this might be a sting of some kind. "A, ah, shipment from the cold northlands, you say? I do get deliveries from there from time to time, yes. What name would it be under?"

He knew he only had one order for Atlesian goods -- the Dust lamps, opera holovids, and model Atlesian airships he had on display had been collecting dust for months, so there was no way she was here for one of those. Still, one could never be too careful in this business; discretion was the lifeblood of smuggled goods dealing, after all.

The name fell on his ears like a ton of bricks and set his heart to racing -- either this was the client, which meant his memory was indeed as bad as he was coming to fear... or this girl was part of a very well-informed sting operation. The police? A rival trader? Weylon's mind ran a mile a minute as he nervously considered all the possibilities. In that time, however, the young girl in front of him offered no additional words, merely an expectant gaze. Could he really be so forgetful? He tried to memorize her face, to place it somewhere in his memory, pull up a shred of something. Nothing came. He knew he'd dealt with Amane Petrichor with some regularity, so then why...?

He sighed softly, giving up. He had no reason to think she wasn't the client, and if word got around that he was second-guessing his customers people would take their lien elsewhere. "Y-yes, my apologies miss Petrichor -- it's been a busy week and I didn't recognize you at first." He didn't recognize her at all, but saying so would only make matters worse. "One moment then."

After a quick trip into the back room Weylon returned with a small, discreet, unlabeled box. "For the record, I have no idea what these are or where they came from, officially speaking... and what you do with them is your business, not mine. If anyone asks, you never came in here and I," He tried not to look embarrassed as he said the next words. "I've, um, never seen you before in my life. Oh! One more thing."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a collapsed Scroll and placed it on the table. "My, er..., friends in the business sent this along with your order. Said it was from a dealer who wanted to do business with you -- no details beyond that. Personally it seems a little shady to me, but I was paid well to make sure it made it into your hands; you can toss it in the bin on the way out if you'd rather not take any risks. Up to you, ma'am."

If Amane decided to open the Scroll she would find it virtually empty: no apps, no CCTN browser, just one lone name in the contact list -- 'The Lady', with a note saying "Call me"...

Amane simply gazes at Weylan as he talks until he finishes, then gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and says, “Good work Weylan.” Retracting her hand, she says, “Also, I’d like to add two of those airship models to the order.”

"Y-yes, certainly." He smiled nervously, not quite sure how to take her comment. The ship models were rung up quickly and bagged. "Your total comes to..." He glanced at a records book, just to make sure. "2650 lien, since you prepaid for the, er, special order. Any other goods I can look into for you, miss Petrichor?"

(OOC: I'm using this for lien values, since there isn't yet anything canonically established. Basically the two models cost around $20 USD each, which is pretty average for model kits overall. Figured you'd appreciate the frame of reference.)

Amane looks around the shop before turning back and says, "That'll be all." She takes out her wallet and hands him 3000. However, she was too interested in who wanted to contact her so she says, "Keep the change." before putting the scroll in the bag, stacking the bag on top of the box, and heading out. She got into her car while placing the items in the seat next to her before driving back to her place.

Timeskip

Entering her apartment, Amane placed the items on the bar counter, taking a moment to make some coffee in her french press before taking the scroll that was given to her and ringing it up while situating herself on her couch.

The Scroll rang exactly three times, exactly to the measure, before 'The Lady' picked up. The voice on the other end was feminine but distorted sounding, as though run through a synthesizer and remixed to strip away all sense of music from the voice -- what remained was a skeleton of tone and timbre accented with a dull echo and a dry electric crackle deep in its undertones. The effect was at once mysterious and impersonal, nevertheless there was no menace in it.

"Thank you for making this call, miss Petrichor. I'm known as the Lady of a Thousand Faces, and we have similar interests in, shall we say, the procurement of hard to come by goods. I was wondering if you might be willing in doing a little work for me. I promise fair pay for moderate risk, and you won't even have to leave Vale. What's more, you can keep half of what we'd be acquiring. Are you interested?"

Amane listens to the message and sips her coffee, taking a moment to enjoy the smooth, dark, and aromatic taste along with the notes of tropical and flowery flavors that unveil themselves layer by layer. She drank it black - no cream or sugar could respect two hundred years of crafting its flavor and cultivating its beans in volcanic soil. Letting out a satisfied sigh as she set the cup down, she picked up her scroll once more to respond to the Lady.

"Sure, I would like to hear more about this job, but I prefer to do business in person. Would you happen to enjoy gelato? I know of an excellent gelato place where we can conduct this meeting without attracting any... unwanted attention."

"A fine offer, though like yourself I prefer to remain largely anonymous in my dealings. On that note, I must commend you -- finding any sort of information on you has proven remarkably difficult, miss Petrichor, and I pride myself on being well informed." The voice on the other end paused, as if deliberating. "For many reasons I cannot meet you in person, at least not yet. However, I respect your preference for a face-to-face. Would you consider meeting another in my place? She is a trusted contact: discreet, capable, and empowered to speak on my behalf."

"Wonderful. You'll know her by the symbol -- my symbol -- that she bears: a single drop of blood, worn in the form of small ruby earrings. Just let me know the address and I'll see that she meets you where and when you wish."

Some Time Later...

It had been a long time since Maria had walked around in Vale. The kingdom, known for its peaceful and balanced disposition, wasn't exactly rife with opportunity the way Mistral or Vacuo were... still, it was a far cry from the stern and insular nature of Atlas, to be sure. She'd kept herself to nondescript, business-casual attire, embracing short sleeves and pants with open seams that went halfway up her lower legs to make the most of the day's late-spring warmth -- a good day for gelato indeed. Thin-frame sunglasses rested on the curve of her nose, dimly reflecting the hustle and bustle around her as she navigated the streets and sidewalks. And of course, a subtle pair of teardrop-shaped rubies hung one to each ear. She put out a cigarette beneath her flat-heeled shoe as she spotted the gelato place up ahead, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Amane sat at a table inside Mozetti's Gelato looking out the window and studying the world moving around outside. She wore a black polo shirt with white edges on the sleeves and collar, blue jeans, her scarf loosely draped around her neck with a pair of brown-tinted aviator sunglasses hanging from the collar of her shirt, her beanie, and as always, her watch on her left wrist. Her fragrance today was the L'Immensité by Louis Vuitton with notes of grapefruit, ginger, and a variety of other herbs and scents perfect for the warm weather. Aside from an elderly Mistralian man with chestnut-colored skin at the register and a tall, muscular dark-skinned man with a large scar on the left side of his face carrying a few boxes, Amane was the only one indoors with the other customers sitting at tables outside, having ensured that their meeting won't attract unwanted attention.

Noticing the well-dressed woman walking towards the store, Amane subconsciously read her body language and got a feeling that this was her contact. This was confirmed as she spotted the red earring and waited for her to enter.

Mozetti's Gelato struck Maria as a quiet, local place that was just a hint out of the way -- known by people from the area but not heavily trafficked, subtle without seeming covert, and with just enough of a crowd so that if the deal went sideways miss Petrichor could ensure Maria wouldn't try anything unpleasant. She had to give the girl credit, this clearly wasn't her first meet-and-greet.

Stepping inside, she glanced around and quickly spotted the only other woman in the room. Unless Amane was among those outside, or a master of disguise, this was her. A pleasant smile and a wave, as if greeting a friend, was cover for Maria doing her utmost to memorize every detail of her potential-accomplice's appearance... not knowing, unfortunately, that such an effort would be completely futile. Ordering a small cherry-vanilla in a dish, the understated young woman brought her ice cream over to where Amane was seated. "Miss Petrichor, I assume? I'm Julia Garnet, here on behalf of the Haema Foundation." Maria brushed away the hair from one ear so that her earring would be clearly visible, then extended her hand for a handshake.